No Pain, No Gain – A Call to Return and Rebuild

By all accounts, we are living through one of the most difficult chapters in modern Jewish history. The pain is nearly unbearable. Each fallen soldier is not merely a name or a statistic; each is a world lost, a soul extinguished. The collective anguish of our people is overwhelming. And the question must be asked: What can we do? Our member and regular contributor Rabbi Paul Bloom seeks to find an answer to this difficult question.

Some say, “Give in to our enemies’ demands, just so the bloodshed ends.” Others demand, “Fight with greater force and crush our enemies once and for all.” And as usual, the world applies to us a set of standards it uses for no other nation—demanding we show restraint even when under attack by barbaric terrorists. We are left with the inescapable truth: Only Divine intervention can save us.

But how do we merit Divine intervention?

The Shofar of Teshuvah

Parashat Beha’alotcha provides an essential clue:

וְכִֽי־תָבֹ֨אוּ מִלְחָמָ֜ה בְּאַרְצְכֶ֗ם עַל־הַצַּר֙ הַצֹּרֵ֣ר אֶתְכֶ֔ם וַהֲרֵעֹתֶ֖ם בַּחֲצֹצְרֹ֑ת וְנִזְכַּרְתֶּ֗ם לִפְנֵי֙ יְהֹוָ֣ה אֱלֹֽהֵיכֶ֔ם וְנוֹשַׁעְתֶּ֖ם מֵאֹיְבֵיכֶֽם׃

"When you go to war in your land against an enemy who oppresses you, you shall sound a teru'ah on the trumpets, and you shall be remembered before Hashem your God, and you shall be saved from your enemies." (Bamidbar 10:9)

The Rambam codifies this in Hilchot Ta’aniyot (1:1–2):

“It is a positive mitzvah from the Torah to cry out and blow trumpets when trouble comes upon the community… This is one of the paths of repentance.”

The message is clear: Our strength does not lie in military might alone, but in spiritual awakening—prayer, repentance, and the return to God. When the enemy comes to take away our Land, our first and greatest weapon must be the shofar of teshuvah, reminding us that the battle is not only physical but spiritual.

But there is something else, something tangible we can do: Aliyah.

Defeating Our Enemies with Faith and Feet

It may seem counterintuitive to promote moving to Israel in the midst of war and instability, but that is precisely when it matters most. The massive wave of aliyah from the former Soviet Union disrupted the Arab narrative of eventual victory. Every Jew who enters the Land thwarts that narrative again. As some in the Land courageously declare, “For every Jew killed, a thousand Jews should come and build.” We must take up that cry—not just with slogans, but with suitcases.

One might ask: How can we possibly expect people to move to Israel under such dire circumstances? The answer lies in another episode from our parashah.

No Pain, No Gain: The Sin of Complaining

Chapter 11 opens with the tragic episode of Tav’eirah:

וַיְהִ֤י הָעָם֙ כְּמִתְאֹ֣נְנִ֔ים רַ֖ע בְּאׇזְנֵ֣י יְהֹוָ֑ה וַיִּשְׁמַ֤ע יְהֹוָה֙ וַיִּ֣חַר אַפּ֔וֹ וַתִּבְעַר־בָּם֙ אֵ֣שׁ יְהֹוָ֔ה וַתֹּ֖אכַל בִּקְצֵ֥ה הַֽמַּחֲנֶֽה׃

“And the people were like complainers; it was evil in the ears of Hashem.” (Bamidbar 11:1)

Rashi explains they were complaining about the hardships of the journey to Eretz Yisrael. What was Hashem's response? Anger. Why? Because the hardships were a sign of love—Hashem was trying to bring them into the Land quickly, compressing three days of travel into one (Bamidbar 10:33). But instead of seeing the pain as part of the process of redemption, they rejected it—and lost everything.

As Chazal teach:

"Eretz Yisrael is acquired only through suffering." (Berachot 5a)

Rather than accept that pain as part of the price for entering God’s Land, they complained. That moment led to a cascade of failures, including the sin of the spies and the decree to wander in the wilderness for forty years.

The lesson is simple: There is no spiritual reward without spiritual investment. We cannot expect to inherit the Land without struggle. But if we are willing to endure even modest sacrifices—financial uncertainty, language barriers, cultural adaptation—then Hashem will surely assist us and defeat our enemies.

Yitro’s Dilemma: Then and Now

Later in the parashah, we read the dialogue between Moshe and his father-in-law, Chovav (Yitro):

וַיֹּ֣אמֶר מֹשֶׁ֗ה לְ֠חֹבָ֠ב בֶּן־רְעוּאֵ֣ל הַמִּדְיָנִי֮ חֹתֵ֣ן מֹשֶׁה֒ נֹסְעִ֣ים ׀ אֲנַ֗חְנוּ אֶל־הַמָּקוֹם֙ אֲשֶׁ֣ר אָמַ֣ר יְהֹוָ֔ה אֹת֖וֹ אֶתֵּ֣ן לָכֶ֑ם לְכָ֤ה אִתָּ֙נוּ֙ וְהֵטַ֣בְנוּ לָ֔ךְ כִּֽי־יְהֹוָ֥ה דִּבֶּר־ט֖וֹב עַל־יִשְׂרָאֵֽל׃

"We are journeying to the place of which Hashem said: I will give it to you. Come with us… and we will do good for you." (Bamidbar 10:29)

Yitro declines, citing his homeland, his family, and his possessions. The commentators debate his motives: comfort, health, family, wealth, or a desire to influence others spiritually from afar. Sound familiar?

Moshe responds by insisting: “Do not leave us... and the good that Hashem will do with us, we will share with you.”

Rabbi Yaakov Tzvi Mecklenberg, in HaKetav VeHaKabbalah, explains that Moshe was saying: Your decision can inspire the world. If a man of your stature leaves behind everything to join us in God’s Land, it will make waves across the nations. This, too, is a powerful Kiddush Hashem.

We must absorb that message today. Every Jew who makes aliyah—despite obstacles—becomes a beacon. Many cite the same excuses Yitro did: comfort, livelihood, family, safety, or religious mission abroad. But none outweigh the sanctity of living in the Land Hashem gave us.

The Call of Our Time

The message of Beha’alotcha is clear: When enemies rise against us, we must not only cry out to Heaven, but rise up on Earth. Aliyah is both a spiritual and strategic response. It is the fulfillment of Hashem’s promise to give us the Land—and a living declaration that we trust in that promise.

Now more than ever is the time. Let us not repeat the mistake of our ancestors at Tav’eirah, who turned back when they should have marched forward. Let us not be like Yitro, content to remain in comfort while others fight for the future of our people.

Let us rise up, beha’alotcha, and ascend together.

“Go with us… for Hashem has spoken good concerning Israel.”  And if we go—together—we will surely see that goodness with our own eyes.

So let us take Moshe's advice and convince your friends and family to the ascend to the place of which the Lord said, "I will give it to you”.

May the memory of our fallen be for a blessing, and may we merit the ultimate victory—of spirit, of nationhood, and of redemption.

Desires and destinations: Beha'alotecha 5785

The troubles, disappointments and disasters that visit the Jewish people on their trek through the Sinai desert begin in this week’s parsha. Moshe announces that “we are traveling now to our ultimate destination—the Land of Israel.” But, deep down in their hearts, the people are not really that anxious to go there. They have in their hearts and minds two options: remain in the desert and live a life of supernatural miracles and there become the dor de’ah—the generation of exclusive intellect and Torah knowledge, or return to Egypt, with all that this radical move would entail, physically and spiritually. 

The Torah will soon detail for us that neither of these options is acceptable. They will complain about the manna that falls from heaven daily and the seeming lack of variety in their meals. They don’t like the water supply, which is never guaranteed to them. They remember the good food that they supposedly had in Egypt.

According to Midrash, only a small minority actually wishes to return to Egypt on a permanent basis. They will press forward with Moshe to reach the promised Land of Israel, but they will do so reluctantly and half-heartedly. This leads inexorably to further rebellion, tragedy and the death of an entire generation – notwithstanding its being a dor de’ah – in the desert of Sinai. Our  parsha is a sad and depressing one, for we already know the end of the story. We can already see that this generation has doomed itself to desolation and destruction. 

Coming to the Land of Israel and its Jewish state, whether as a tourist and most certainly when someone immigrates, requires commitment and enthusiasm. Many who came to Israel over the past century did so  by default, but the country has truly been served and built by those who came with a sense of mission, purpose, happiness and expectation. 

Moshe’s clarion call, that “We are traveling to the place” of our destiny, echoes throughout the Jewish ages. Not all such calls are heard and even fewer are followed. Nevertheless, the call has resonated within the Jewish people throughout its history. It is that call, which  appears in today’s parsha, which is the same call that Moshe proclaimed millennia ago—the guiding motive for the existence of the State of Israel today. 

Just as then in the desert, there are options for Jews today. The many “Egypts” of the world beckon with their seeming allure but also possess great underlying faults and dangers. And there are those who wish to continue to live in a desert that demands nothing from them and contemplate themselves somehow as being a dor de’ah. History has always arisen and smitten these options from the Jewish future.  The long trek begun by Moshe and Israel in this week’s parsha continues. We hope that we are witnessing, at last, its final and successful conclusion. 

Shabbat shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein        

You can access "A nation of complainers", Rabbi Wein's devar Torah for the same parashah last year, here.

A nation of complainers: Beha'alotecha 5784

A terrible personality trait is that which is possessed by the complainer. It is hard to live with complainers at home, in the workplace, and in the community. In this week’s parsha we are made aware of the dismal consequences of complaining. Rashi points out that the complainers in the desert had no real basis for their complaints. They were just generally dissatisfied, so they complained against Moshe and eventually against God.

 Moshe, in his final oration to the Jewish people in the book of Devarim, will himself complain that the people of Israel are unnecessarily quarrelsome, a bunch of complainers. There is a Jewish joke, more ironic than funny, about three Jewish matrons eating lunch at a restaurant in New York: the waiter approaches them in the middle of their meal and asks them “Is anything alright?” 

Rashi’s interpretation of the lack of justification for complaints in the desert portrays a serious character defect within the Jewish people. They are chronic complainers but, for the vast majority of the time, their grumbles are baseless. The many complaints in the desert follow the usual pattern: food, Moshe’s leadership, the unfairness of life and how hard it is to live up to the role of being the chosen people. 

All through First Temple times we find that the prophets of Israel were barraged with moans about their mission and words. Though their prophecies actually provided the solution to Israel’s troubles, the people asserted that it was they who were the problem. Their unjustified criticisms brought destruction and exile in their wake. 

I am not a mental health professional by any stretch of imagination. Yet my instinct tells me that chronic complainers are not happy with themselves and that they project that dissatisfaction outwards on events and on people who are not the cause of their original dissatisfaction. 

There is something deep within us that requires self-justification and self-empowerment.  When that need is fulfilled, we are happy, and optimistic. When that ingredient in our psyche is absent, we carp, we become sad and sometimes destructive. We recite daily in our morning prayers how fortunate we are to be the special people that God has chosen to lead the world in service to Him. We may all recite that prayer—but how many of us are really convinced in our heart of hearts of its truth? 

The rabbis of the Talmud harshly disdained the chronic complainer: “Is it not sufficient for you that you are alive?” Nothing is perfect in life, but that is no justification for complaining. We are bidden to deal with problems to the extent that we can—not to dwell on them and let them fester within our heart. We have to seek an inner peace that will allow us an optimistic attitude and an avoidance of complaints. Our parents, schools and society should somehow concentrate on achieving this goal with our coming generations.

 Shabbat shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein